


Highlighted

by Webtrinsic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Comedian Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Little Shit, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, First Meetings, M/M, Model Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Whipped, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Romantic Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Their words are angsty, pomeranian, words on skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: The words that appear on your skin the day you turn sixteen is supposed to be a joyous occasion, but both Eddie and Richie find themselves struggling with the troubling words on their hips. Hoping that maybe when the day comes, they'll be able to make sense of them.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 217





	Highlighted

**Author's Note:**

> :) Hope you all enjoy, let Reddie live forever

Oftentimes people forgot the words written in black ink on their skin wasn’t what your soulmate first says to you, but rather the first words you ever hear them say. To make up for the confusion and assure you did find the one, once the words hit your ear, the black ink became gold like a silken thread.

That didn’t stop the nasty looks tossed in his direction whenever someone saw them. Richie didn’t really blame them, his words horrified him too. When he’d turned sixteen, he’d searched his skin in the bathroom mirror until he found the line on his hip that’d absolutely torn him apart.

_ “You’re hurting me,” _

The words had brought him back to when he’d first started puberty, with the movie the wolfman filling him with an outlandish sense of dread. He towered over others, he made more messes than he could ever clean up on his own, and all his friends he’d squeeze tightly with hugs begged him to loosen up because they couldn’t breathe.

If he hadn’t been afraid of himself before, he was petrified now. His mom, Bev, and Stan had spent his youth constantly reassuring him that whoever his soulmate was, didn’t have to be speaking directly to him, while the couples around him seemed to mock him by their words always being the first their soulmate had said to them.

It was only those whose black ink had highlighted as a result of overhearing their soulmate over the ruckus of busy bars and in the crowds at work that understood his plight.

With words like his, he often wondered what his soulmate had gotten stuck with. The optimistic and caring side of his heart wished it was something that didn’t stick them out like a sore thumb while being unique enough whoever they were wasn’t constantly stressed their soulmate would be impossible to find, even if his words highlighted.

A hurt and broken part of him, a selfish part of him-well he did think it was deserved, at least a little, wished that his soulmate at least shared some of the spite and heartache he’d endured.

He wanted to meet them, needed too, because at times when he couldn’t believe in his family or friends, especially in himself, maybe just maybe he could believe the person who uttered the words that had shattered him so completely.

“Rich, you ready?” Beverly called out, dropping the groceries off at their shared apartment on the counter, quickly putting away what needed to go in the fridge before grabbing her work bags.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” He sighed, he known for weeks he’d be going with Beverly to work today. He’d been excited before, really he had, he just hadn’t expected for that terrible feeling of fear to start crawling up his spine like a venomous spider.

“You sure you’re up for it?” The red headed woman asked tentatively, raising a hand to his slight stubble, a knowing glint in her eye.

“Of course,” She’d been wanting to show him her work for so long, he was her best friend and he was pretty stinking proud of her, he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Taking her small hand, Richie followed obediently as she walked them out to her car and they headed to work.

“You know Richie, one day you’ll meet who gave you those words and they’ll help you heal. I know they will. And I’m willing to bet if they could, they’d trade your words and take all that heartache for themself, because whoever they may be. They love you,”

Richie could only nod, his throat unbearably tight.

* * *

Haste is a word anyone who knew Eddie Kaspbrak would associate him with unquestionably. His mind worked as fast as his mouth, his body although anxious worked quickly yet efficiently all at once.

His hands moved when he spoke, it his own version of sign language that only anyone who knew him could decipher. There were few moments when he was still, when fear took hold and when the camera was shuttering.

He’d been modeling the minute he’d got out from his mother’s grasp. It was a nice sort of defiance, one that didn’t make him uncomfortable while still being outlandish enough to rile his family up.  Eddie often found himself chuckling at the angry letters from his aunts, the words on the paper in polish, questioning why doesn’t he go home to his mother who misses him dearly.

The model would reply asking them if it was so important, why didn’t she come to him because she obviously knew his address; since someone had to have given it to them to contact him, but he didn’t want it to sound like an invitation to crash into his life.

If they did he was sure they’d help his mother hold him down to figure out his words, something he’d managed to hide from his mother of all people. He’d only managed because the night before he’d turned sixteen, he’d managed to snag his social security card and his birth certificate before confirming his place in a school in another state before running.

_ Running. _

He’d always been good at running, his legs, his mouth, his mind. Always running. That last one often without his control. Anxiety did that to a person of his speed, rushed and raced, marking him with road rash. 

It was a finer marker than the line on his hip, and he meant finer as in more concise because it wasn’t the words themself that truly hurt, they still seared his very core, but it was anxiety and self-hatred that twisted that searing knife further into his back.

_ “Back Off!” _

Two words, clear words, to the point and angry. No matter how many times he’d recited the two words to himself in a desperate attempt to make them sound soft and laughable, he could never find a tone that made them any less...brash.

His friends were understanding of his situation, all of his friends had some peculiarity to their connection to their soulmate, Bill’s words had been, _‘I love your books’_ something said to him quite often where he almost forgot the check the words on his bicep when he heard them. Luckily he’d been wearing a short sleeved shirt when he’d met Audra.

Ben’s words were comical, leaving his face a blushing mess whenever someone read them outloud. Eddie couldn’t blame whoever Ben’s soulmate was either, he was sure if he hadn’t met the man when they were kids and seen him grow, he’d look at the adonis of a man and say, _‘Holy Shit’_ too. Eddie wondered why Ben didn’t model either, but he seemed perfectly content in architecture so he understood.

Lastly there was Mike, whose body was bare. There were two different interpretations of those who couldn’t be highlighted. Although Eddie was a pessimist he shared Mike’s view as his own, that those without words had a chance to find someone to be their soulmate rather than find who the world told them their soulmate was.

He could be happy with anyone, and the hopeless romantics they were favored that opinion over the cruel pitying of ‘you’ll be alone forever’. Not Bill, Ben, or Audra let anyone say such a thing to Mike, and Eddie remembers the time he’d shouted at the town drunk Bowers for spewing that shit to his friend, earning himself a punch to the face and two weeks off his mainstream work.

No one wanted photos of him with a black eye. Well some people did, and he’d made it work.

“I’m heading to work, wish me luck I have to model with that Patrick asshole,” Eddie called out, they didn’t live in the same apartment, they all had units the same floor but found themselves all hanging out at any one of their rooms together for company, and this morning they all happened to be at Eddie’s.

“Th-that asshat,” Bill murmured, patting Eddie’s shoulder with a grim look on his face. Patrick had a following in the modeling world before Eddie, not liking the competition he often used to trip him or fuck with the cameras beforehand to mess with Eddie’s shots. Posing with him was often hell, especially when he was handsy. Eddie had gotten pinches and bruises from the bastard before, he guessed he could deal with it for a paycheck, but he didn’t like it.

“Be careful,” Mike, Ben and Audra called out in unison, chuckling at the coincidence as Eddie left and began his journey to work. 

Eddie wasn’t thrilled about today’s work day, not only because Patrick but also because of the two other businesses that’d be occupying the workspace. Before it’d just been Gretta’s line he was modeling and her running the floor, then Beverly joined, which he didn’t mind in the slightest, she offered her clothes for him to model and he couldn’t refuse.

He liked having her around, enough so, he minded a few other workers upping his anxiety. It was what Gretta had done in retaliation to the rising star that pissed him off. She’d signed on more models and work, adding two new brands being whoever the hell was in charge of Project Pennywise, and Turtle Deco.

The onslaught of people had him iching, too many people, too many nuisances. The chaos was enough for Patrick to use to his advantage, he was always ten times worse when he knew he wouldn’t get reprimanded for being an asshole. It was high school all over again. 

* * *

Richie took everything in with wide eyes, astounded at the work the girl he saw as a sister was doing. People bustled about with fervor, stylish bodies swaying and moving to the clicks of shuttering cameras.

It was all so much, interns running around trying not to spill their bosses coffee cups, one even giving one to Bev and handing one to him when they noticed his presence, eyes shot and seemingly starstruck.

Richie knew he’d shot up in the comedy world, his face on billboards and his appearance on SNL making people go wild. Richie assumed interns would be used to working with big shots here though, no model here wasn’t someone undeserving of Victoria’s secret or walks down the runway in a million dollar clothes. 

“Gretta’s kinda a bitch so mind her if she walks by,” Beverly cautioned, sipping her drink, lipstick staining the cups white top.

“You’re not going to become a bitch now that you're famous?” Richie chuckled, earning a swat to the chest by her manicured fingers.

“No more than you’ve become an ass now that you’re famous,” the barking laugh he let out at those words startled a few people around them, the two friends laughing in tandem as she pointed at a few of her outfits. 

Richie’s amusement was cut short when two model’s came into view, and something about it looked so wrong that Richie’s stomach turned. The taller of the two males was holding the smaller man’s wrist.

The comedian couldn’t help but notice how even when frowning the smaller man was beyond beautiful, he was captivating. The urge to intervene on whatever was happening was roaring in his gut, his feet finally fucking moving when the smaller man opened his mouth, his voice crystal clear.

“You’re hurting me,” Richie had been under the impression that the words would sound fearful, not annoyed and ticked off, but he had a feeling the shorter male was full of surprises. 

An impulse fired in him before he could question further, his body very protectively moving in front of the smaller models, luckily causing the asshole to let go of his wrist and his words to finally escape his lips.

“Back off!” Richie didn’t see his soulmates eyes widen behind him as he quickly moved to pull up his shirt and look at the now golden words on his hip before he dropped the fabric, mouth stuck open in a soft ‘oh’.

His eyes watered then, all these years of thinking those two words meant his soulmate wanted nothing to do with him when that wasn’t right at all. Those words were his soulmate invested in his safety, invested in him, keeping him safe.

Another arm was on him then, Beverly excitedly jumping up and down looking amazed at the development. Her touch didn’t bother him like most people so he held back, giving her some of his weight because if he didn’t his legs would likely give out.

Patrick seemed to grumble but buggered off, leaving Richie heaving protectively in front of the two, not turning back to face them before lifting his shirt and seeing his troubling words a silken gold and no longer a harsh black.

“Eddie I think I should introduce you to my friend Richie,” Beverly spoke up, as Richie finally turned around, seemingly unable to find his voice. His brain trying desperately to confirm, he wasn’t a monster who’d hurt his soulmate on sight.

The first thing he’d done for his soulmate was protect him, and that doesn’t sound like a very monsterish thing to do.

“Thank you,” Eddie let out softly, nerves alight, feeling achingly aware of everything around him. As if the world was going in slow motion. He didn’t like slow. 

“You’re welcome,” Blush lit up Richie’s face when his voice cracked at those words, the shorter man’s teary eyes sparkling as a soft smile rose up on his face.  A silence brokered between the two for a second longer before they broke it all at once in unison.

“Do you want to get married?” Chuckles soon followed, the two nodding steadfast in agreement.

“I would say let's get coffee, but it seems you already did,” Eddie murmured, noticing the two coffee’s tucked under Beverly’s arm.

“Oh! We can go anyway-I-” Richie wasn’t quite used to being a bumbling mess but his soulmate was here, wiping his eyes and coming closer.  Eddie’s laugh halted him, especially when his soft hand came up to cup his cheek, the soft vibrations of his laughter traveling up his arm and onto his face.

“Dinner then,” Eddie decided easily, feeling awfully bold with their closeness now. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, his shirt riding up, not that he noticed as he opened his contact list.

Richie’s eyes widened at the words, _‘Back Off’_ written in gold on his beloved’s hip.

His soulmate had suffered then, had suffered awful words. They may not have painted him like a monster, but Richie was sure if he had _‘Back Off’_ written in such finality on his skin he’d feel pretty rejected.

The comedian couldn’t help his hand, moving to the bare skin, holding the man’s hip protectively while his thumb shifted over the finely printed words on fair skin.

Blush stained the model’s face at the action, offering his phone to his soulmates free hand, Eddie wondered if he’d have to kick everyone out of his apartment or if Richie would invite him back to his place so they could get to know one another in a safe place that wasn’t crowded with people.

“You know damn well I’m making you two model together,” Beverly cut in, they’d both completely forgotten she was there, “Oh and I can make your suits for the wedding!”

“Works for me,” Richie smiled, typing in his number before handing it back, not bothering to take his hand off Eddie’s hip.

“Well, so long as Eds is okay with it,” he added after, looking incredibly smug at the possessive hold he had on his fiance.

“I hate that nickname and did you seriously put your contact as Honey Bunny Hubbie?” The tone was the same annoyed frustrated tone the _‘You’re hurting me’_ had been said, Richie knowing instantly it was a tone he’d grow used to. 

“Sure did Hot Stuff,” 

“Watch it or we won’t be married very long,” The smile on his face didn’t match his grouchy tone as he entered his information in Richie’s phone.

“Edward ‘Eddie’ Kaspbrak,” Richie read off his rose gold iphone, rolling his eyes fondly. “Richie is short for Richard by the way, and not that your last name isn’t suiting for you. But I think Tozier would be a cute name for you Eds,” 

“Mm, no you may be right. Richard ‘Richie’ Kaspbrak wouldn’t sound very good for your act,” Eddie leaned into the other man’s space, a hand bracing against his strong chest, a chest that Eddie was sure would pillow his head nicely at night. “But my name isn’t Eds,”

“Not that I don’t find this adorable but you're in the way of the next shoot,” Beverly cautioned, the two seperating and walking off, Gretta in a surprising act of kindness let Eddie go home from work early, it turns out she was a hopeless romantic as well.

“So does that mean I get you for the rest of the day?” 

“It would seem that way Rich,” Eddie hummed, feeling oddly content now that his horrid words had clarity, making them not so horrible at all. Wait...what had he said that was written on Richie's skin?

“Oh my god, your words,” Eddie moved quickly, pulling the side of his soulmates shirt up earning a quip that Eddie didn’t pay any mind to as he was met with, _‘You’re hurting me’._

Richie obviously saw him mouth the words and recoiled embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck, stammering because Richie after finally understanding his words and finding out what anxiety Eddie’s words must have left him with, he didn’t want to burden Eddie with comforting him.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie apologized, looking absolutely distraught with teary eyes. “That must have been horrible,” the model lamented, pulling Richie into a hug that he didn’t dare shy away from.

God Eddie felt good pressed against him, smelled nice too. He didn’t know how he’d been living before, not knowing this heaven.

“I think we both suffered enough with the words we got, but it’s worth it now,” Richie hummed into the smaller man’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, you do seem pretty worth it,” Eddie returned, being brave and kissing the other man’s cheek.

* * *

“I guess people get off on telling me I’m not hot enough for my husband, but jokes on them because I get to get off on my husband,” the crowd roared, and Richie knew his husband had said the joke was okay but felt a little relieved his Eds had been too caught up at work to come to this show.

He didn’t think Eddie would have liked being in a room full of people after that joke, but Eddie was just as much of a possessive little shit he was and Richie was sure that’s why he’d written off on it.

“Alright Alright thank you all for coming to my show tonight, please don’t forget to watch my other specials on netflix. Have a good night!” Richie announced, sauntering off stage to thunderous applause just in time for his phone to ring.

“‘Ello ‘Ello my luv,” 

“I’m not talking to the british guy Ricardo after that joke, and we both know you can’t do an accent for Ricardo so don’t even try,” Eddie called over the hustle of backstage.

“You’re no fun Eds,” Richie’s smile took up a majority of his face, especially as his soulmates sigh came in full force.

“Does that mean you don’t want to get off on me later?” The question had Richie’s back straightening.

“How saucy Eddie! Gracing me with phone sex and the promise of real sex too. Eddie you absolute dog, I am scandalized and a little turned on,”

“I’m sure you are asshole, I got to go home a few minutes early due to a scheduling error, I just got in the door and it looks like your race car slippers got eaten by Zazzles,”

“My race car slippers! Rub Zazzles pretty little face in their remains so he knows that was bad,”

“Rich you only do that when its pee,” Eddie sounded beyond exasperated, but the lilt proved that he was amused.

“You planted those slippers, you wanted him to eat them!” The accusation Richie cried as if accusing his husband of actual murder, earning odd looks from the stage hands.

“And get my nice floor all covered in fuzz? I can’t say I’m displeased that those dirty old things are gone but I am pretty upset there’s fuzz stuck between Zazzles’ nails. They’ll get all messed up when I cut them and pull at all our rugs,”

“I’ll buy you new rugs baby,” Richie promised, hurrying past the fans with a wave before driving home to his soulmate and their pomeranian Zazzles. The past of bold black words forgotten because they’d finally been highlighted and they couldn’t be happier because of it. 

"Good because I already ordered you new slippers,"

**Author's Note:**

> snap: allisonw1122  
> tumblr/twitter: webtrinsic1122  
> insta: webtrinsic


End file.
